Burnt Bridges
by dreamingmarie
Summary: Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination, for it was plain that he was that moment arrived, that moment alighted from his horse or his carriage. P&P, ch 43. What if that had really happened?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

BURNT BRIDGES

Mr. Darcy-de Bourgh, a thirty-five year-old widower, had never much enjoyed dancing. Unfortunately, this had never kept his friends from inviting him to balls, and since he did not have a ready excuse for all of them, he had to attend them sometimes. He hardly ever danced, and usually spent most of his time walking about the room and avoiding conversation. Try as he might, he had never managed to feel at ease in a ballroom. There were too many people he didn't know, and the frivolous mood required in these situations eluded him. People knew his story, and most of them knew to leave him alone. He was content to remain on the side, only dancing with ladies he knew well and making polite small talk with whoever came his way. Over the years he had learnt patience in such occasions, but not enjoyment.

Currently, he was looking from the balcony of Lord Pembroke's London house at about half-a-dozen couples moving about. There was one woman, especially, who was taking his attention. She looked in her late twenties, beautiful and elegant, and Darcy could not shake the impression he had met her before. It was grating him that he could not place her. He had seen many women with the same classical beauty, tall and fair, and yet, there was something familiar about the serene countenance of this one. To add to his confusion, she reminded him of someone short and dark. He didn't know who that was, either.

He had been staring at her for quite a while when he was startled by someone talking to him. It was Sir Arthur Linger.

"Well, Darcy, enjoying yourself?"

"Who is that woman in green who is dancing with Weston?" Darcy asked.

"Ah, the beautiful Mrs. Johnson! Wife of the industrialist! I see you have good taste, Darcy," answered Sir Arthur.

Darcy did not know any industrialists. Exciting as the recent changes in Great Britain were, he did not move in those circles. Besides, he was certain the lady had been single when he had met her.

"What was her maiden name?" he persisted.

"I don't know," said Sir Arthur. "She is from Hertfordshire, I believe. Her father was a gentleman – bit of a scandal in the family, if I remember well. A sister ran away, and she was considered quite unmarriageable until Mr. Johnson came along."

"Hertfordshire?" repeated Darcy. Suddenly it all came back to him. "A Miss Bennet, maybe?" he asked.

"Maybe, maybe not. I can't tell you that."

The woman was Jane Bennet, of course, the same one Darcy had taken so many pains to keep away from Bingley, seven years ago, and whose sister Darcy had so hopelessly fallen in love with. She had refused his hand, however, and while this memory was still painful, he had learnt to consider it one of the greatest blessings in his life. She had shown him how his pride had led him astray, and how wrong he was to mistrust anyone who was not a close friend or relative. She had shown him how his manners, impatient and abrasive, had given people a good opportunity to hurt his reputation. He would forever be grateful to her for that.

After his failed proposal, he had never heard from her again. He had often wondered what had become of her. Had she had gotten married? Did she had children? And here was an opportunity too good to pass. He had to ask Mrs. Johnson about her sister.

"Can you secure me an introduction?" he asked.

"To whom? Mr. or Mrs. Johnson?"

Darcy took a second to consider.

"Mr. Johnson."

He did not wish to risk being snubbed by the lady.

"Very well," answered Sir Arthur. "I would be careful, though, he does not like men to show too close attention to his wife," he added with a smirk.

"I assure you, I have no such intention."

They made their way to the tables where the men were playing cards. Sir Arthur introduced him to a florid man in his forties who was sitting across Lord Pembroke.

"Ah, Darcy, come to pay tribute to the man who is bringing steamships to Britain?" said Pembroke.

Mr. Johnson looked pleased, both by the introduction and the compliment. He had an intelligent, shrewd look, and, although he was not a man of fashion, he was well-bred enough to mingle well with Lord Pembroke's friends.

"I have heard much about the_ SS Savannah_, sir. When will it come to Liverpool?" asked Darcy.

"Soon, I hope," answered Mr. Johnson. "I was just telling his Lordship about the good news I received from New York this week. I dare say she will arrive in Liverpool before the end of June."

"I am very pleased to hear that. I do hope it will allow us to establish a lasting peace with America."

"And so do I, sir. There is nothing worse for business than war," answered Mr. Johnson.

"I understand that you have prints of the ship," said Darcy.

"Certainly. The _Times_ showed a reproduction of them, as I am sure you remember."

Darcy waited for a few moments, but no invitation to see them came. He had to be more direct.

"The lady in green dancing with Mr. Weston is your wife, I understand?" he asked.

"Aye, sir, she is."

"Was she not a Miss Bennet?"

"You are correct."

"I believe I met her, many years ago, when I was in Hertfordshire. Her father's estate is called Longbourn, is it not? Near Meryton?"

"Indeed, sir, it is."

Mr Johnson gave him a calculating look, but gave no sign of alarm. He called his wife, whose partner was just leading her back to her husband.

"My dear, I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Darcy-de Bourgh," said Mr. Johnson.

"Yes," answered Mrs. Johnson, "we met more than seven years ago."

She curtseyed and smiled pleasantly as if nothing in the world had ever happened between her sister and Darcy. But there was a look between the husband and wife, and Darcy fancied that he saw Mr. Johnson relax a little.

"I remember very well that Mrs. Johnson was taken ill one day at Netherfield Park, where I was staying," he said for the sake of conversation. "Her sister came to nurse her for a few days. I will never forget how she walked three miles through the muddy countryside to see her sister."

"I need not ask you which sister you are talking about," said Mr. Johnson. "Elizabeth would never pass up a chance to nurse anybody."

"Good Lord!" said Lord Pembroke. "Her mother had no objection?"

"I will always be very grateful for my sister's attentions to me at Netherfield," said Mrs. Johnson.

It was said with great mildness, but Darcy felt the underlying defense of her sister. He didn't want her to think he'd set out to insult her family, and he didn't like the idea of Lord Pembroke, of all people, looking down on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

"Indeed," he said in order to add to Mrs. Johnson's words, "I can assure you that Miss Elizabeth Bennet's behaviour was always very proper, and I am certain that, had she had any alternative, she would not have come on foot."

But his words were lost on Lord Pembroke, whose attention had already gone back to the game.

He wanted to hear more about Elizabeth Bennet. Should he ask Mrs. Johnson to dance? He hesitated a little, but his curiosity overcame his reluctance, and, to the raised eyebrows of some of the guests, he led her to the dance set.

"How is Longbourn doing, madam?" he asked as the music started.

"Longbourn has not changed much since you were in Hertfordshire."

"Are your parents still there?"

"My father is. My mother died five years ago."

"I am sorry to hear it."

Not wanting to appear indelicate, Darcy changed the subject. They talked very pleasantly about the ball and about steam engines, but they never got near the subject of her sister again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

The next few days, Darcy took the opportunity to gather some information about the Johnsons. Mr. Johnson had started as a banker before financing the projects of Mr. Watt, thus assisting that gentleman in inventing and improving many contraptions using steam engines, the latest of which was the steamship. It had proven to be a very good investment, and now he was courted by many people who wanted his money or his advice – and in Lord Pembroke's case, both.

Lord Pembroke was well known for his enthusiasm for everything new, and he was forever trying out the latest inventions on his estates, much to the exasperation of his tenants. Some of the projects he'd carried out were successful, and had been copied by many a landowner (including Darcy himself). Others had proven disastrous, and had cost him a lot of money. Nothing could discourage him, though, and he was always looking for money to support a new project.

Darcy had long known about Pembroke's passion for Progress, and he clearly saw Mr. Johnson as an ally. Mrs. Johnson, he learnt, was the gentleman's second wife. The first one had died in childbirth and left him two daughters and two sons. He had seen in Miss Bennet a woman who could be at once a good mother and a fashionable woman, for Mr. Johnson was not without pretensions of gentility. Darcy delved in his memories of Hertfordshire, and he had to allow the industrialist had excellent flair – much more so than Darcy had had. Where Darcy, who had always prided himself on his discernment, had seen nothing but a pretty but unaccomplished girl sent by her mother to conquer the wealthiest man she could catch, Mr. Johnson had clearly been able to notice her better qualities. Darcy could not but be humbled, yet again, by such a proof of his own short-sightedness.

After a proper delay, Darcy decided to call on the Johnsons. The address was almost fashionable, and the house very good. Darcy felt all Mrs. Johnson's good luck in finding her husband. It almost reconciled him with what he had done with regards to Bingley.

Mr. Johnson, he found, was away for business, but Mrs. Johnson received him – it was exactly as he had wished. She was sitting with one of her sisters, a Mary Wilson, who was married to one of Mr. Johnson's high-ranking clerks. Darcy could only pretend to remember her. He was also introduced to her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner.

He soon found common ground with that lady, who had spent some time at Lambton, five miles from Pemberley, many years ago. She had many inquiries to make, most of which he could not answer. He asked her if she had ever seen Pemberley.

"Yes," she answered. "We visited it six years ago when we were touring Derbyshire with my husband and my niece Elizabeth. You are acquainted with her, I believe."

"Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting her in Hertfordshire, and later in Kent," he answered.

But he had been unprepared for the mention of her, and his voice had sounded strange. He hoped nobody had noticed.

"We sometimes hear of your brother and sister, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, from our cousin, Mr. Collins," said Mrs. Johnson.

"Mr. Collins?" For a second, he had no idea who she was talking about. "Oh, yes, Mr. Collins, the rector of Hunsford, of course! He is a great help to Bingley, I believe."

"I trust Mr. and Mrs. Bingley are well," said Mrs. Johnson evenly.

"Very well, thank you. They could not come to London, this year, because of the renovation of Rosings Park and because of the baby."

There was a pause.

"We were very sorry to hear about Mrs. Darcy-de Bourgh," said Mrs. Wilson. "The story of her life is an apt illustration of the imprudence of excess."

Darcy had heard many things about the life and death of his wife, but this was certainly the oddest of them all. He had forgotten how strange the Bennets could be.

Once more, there was a silence. Darcy decided to ask about Miss Elizabeth. After all, if Mrs. Johnson could talk about his friend, he certainly could talk about her sister. She did not seem to be a taboo subject. He took the plunge.

"Pray, Mrs. Johnson, how is your eldest sister doing?"

"She is well, thank you," was her only answer.

"Oh! That reminds me…" interrupted Mrs. Gardiner. "Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, but I forgot to tell Jane and Mary about the letter I received from Longbourn this morning." She turned to her nieces. "Lizzy writes that your father has recovered from his cold."

This news brought much satisfaction among the ladies. The letter was taken out, read and discussed. Darcy listened, and could hardly believe it: it seemed that she was still at Longbourn, and still single. The rest of the visit went by in a daze. He could hardly attend to what any ladies said, and he went away still in shock over the news.

Over the next few days, the only thing Darcy could think about was that he wanted to see Miss Bennet again. He devised many schemes and scenarios that would put her in his presence, but they were all improper, implausible or extremely awkward. Miss Bennet could not be further from him at Longbourn than if she was at the North Pole. The only thing to do was to get better acquainted with the Johnsons and hope for an opportunity.

This was not a disagreeable task. They were very pleasant, sensible and well-bred, and happy to have his acquaintance. He was soon invited to dinner, and from there got acquainted with Mr. Gardiner (a very sensible, well-informed man who, to Darcy's utter amazement, turned out to be Mrs. Bennet's brother), Mr. Wilson and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. Mr. Holmes was another clerk of Mr. Johnson's, and his wife another sister of Mrs. Johnson. She was introduced to him as "Catherine, my youngest sister," but it seemed strange to him. He was sure that the youngest Miss Bennet's name had been something different, and had started with an L. Maybe _she_ was the runaway sister.

The Johnsons and Gardiners, on their side, were puzzled as to why one of the wealthiest private gentlemen in the country, with such a reputation for pride, would seek their company. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner decided to wait and see, but Mr. Johnson made inquiries. He soon knew as much about Mr. Darcy as Mr. Darcy knew about him – that he owned two great estates, Pemberley in Derbyshire and Rosings in Kent, which brought him an income of nearly twenty thousand pounds a year. That he had inherited one of them and got the other from his wife. That he took care himself of Pemberley, and that Rosings was kept for him by his brother-in-law. That he had no need for money, only a passing interest in steam engines and was not involved in politics. Mr. Johnson could not account for Mr. Darcy's interest in him, and fervently hoped it was not his wife.

But it was Mrs. Johnson who was the most perplexed by it. _She_ knew what had happened between Mr. Darcy and her sister, seven years before, at Hunsford. _She_ knew that they had not parted as friends, and how improbable it was that Mr. Darcy should renew an acquaintance with anybody of her family. Her delicacy forbade her to broach the subject, and she avoided mentioning Elizabeth as much as possible.

Mrs. Johnson had never paid too much attention to Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire, but now she perceived how much her sister had been mistaken in him. That he was reserved was obvious, and it could be easily mistaken for pride in someone of such a tall stature. But when there were not too many people around, she found that he could be very agreeable, and she could never detect any pride in him. He looked like an unhappy man with no talent for merriment, and she pitied him. She wished her sister had been able to like him better, and that his wife had not had such a tragic fate.

Darcy had no wish to show himself too interested in Miss Bennet. What had happened had happened a long time ago, and he had no idea if she had even believed the content of the letter he had written to her. He had no wish to raise any suspicion in anyone, so he feigned interest in steam engines instead. This meant that he could not ask about her further than the usual inquiries.

The Johnsons were not very forthcoming. As a result, for many weeks, he had no more information than what came from letters from Hertfordshire, when they were discussed in front of him – and they were more often about Mr. Bennet's health than about his daughter.

Darcy longed to know how she had lived since they had parted, what had happened to her, and if she had changed. He remembered her wit, her vivacity, the sharpness of her opinions, and he wished he could hear more of them than what was conveyed in her letters to her family. Most of all, he wanted to know what she thought of him, and if she hated him as much as she had the last time they had spoken. He was most anxious to know if she had believed what he had written to her.

At last, however, he got lucky, and was provided with some information about her. He was at the bookstore when he happened upon Mr. Gardiner, who told him that he was buying a few books that his brother-in-law had recommended to him.

"I understand that Miss Bennet takes care of her father," said Darcy.

Mr. Gardiner answered by the affirmative.

"That must be a very dull life for her," Darcy continued. "I remember her being a very lively young woman."

"My niece has a very happy disposition. She makes the best of every situation. Besides, she is Mr. Bennet's favourite daughter, and she has always been very grateful for that."

"Has she never thought of marrying?"

"I dare say she has, and found it wanting – I know she had refused several very good offers."

"Has she indeed!" Darcy exclaimed, thinking for a second that Mr. Gardiner knew everything.

"Oh, yes," continued Mr. Gardiner, oblivious to his companion's emotion. "This remains between us, of course, but she refused Mr. Collins – who will inherit Longbourn, you know – when her mother was still alive, and both Mr. Wilson and Mr. Holmes, before they offered for her sisters. Mr. Johnson was very unhappy about it, but Mr. Bennet put his foot down every time. He's the father, after all."

"But he gave his consent for Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Holmes?"

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Holmes are very different creatures than their elder sisters, you know. Besides, they both accepted – Mr. Bennet could hardly object without offending Mr. Johnson. Personally, I think the arrangement is for the best. They are both respectable men, but Miss Bennet would have been miserable with either of them, and Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Holmes seem quite happy."

He paused and added affectionately, "My niece has an excellent judgement."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

This conversation gave Darcy much to ponder. After seeing his wife destroy herself, he had no desire to see another Mrs. Darcy unhappy. _But this was hardly the same, was it not_, whispered a treacherous voice. _You never gave her time to know you. You never took the opportunity to court her properly._ Then again, how was he to court her now, when she was in Hertfordshire, where he had no foothold anymore? Besides, even if he had the chance to see her again, she would certainly end up refusing him again. _But wasn't it worth a try? _

His wish to see her did not abate, however. The more he thought about Miss Bennet, still single in Hertfordshire, the more urgent it became. He couldn't get his conversation with Mr. Gardiner out of his head either. The thought – impossible, insane as it was – that it was because of _him_ that she had not married, was too sweet, too intoxicating not to occur to his imagination. It made his hands tremble, and banishing it from his mind was more painful than he could ever have imagined.

He kept on the lookout, however, for an excuse to go to Longbourn. His patience was rewarded sooner than he expected, and it came in the form of a steamship. By the end of May, Mr. Johnson received a letter saying that the arrival of the _SS Savannah_ in Liverpool was imminent – and of course he had to be there. Darcy called one morning only to find the house in uproar, and Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Gardiner frantically ordering the servants around and planning the journey. He was about to leave when he caught the subject of their argument. There were some books that had been bought for Mr. Bennet, and Mrs. Johnson had meant to bring them to Longbourn on her way to Liverpool. Mr. Johnson, however, had decided it would be waste of time, and now the question of how they were to be sent was raised. Mrs. Gardiner said it might not be until the fall, but her niece didn't want her father to wait that long. It gave Darcy an idea.

"I will be travelling to Derbyshire next Monday," he said. "Longbourn will not be far off my way, and, if you give me leave, I will call on your father and bring him all your parcels and letters."

Mrs. Johnson was far too busy to do anything but gratefully accept, and whatever feelings her husband had on the subject, Darcy soon found himself in his carriage with books, music, fabrics and letters from the entire family.

Despite the season, it was a dreary day, and by the time he arrived, it was drizzling. He had felt restless during the entire journey, incapable of fixing his attention on anything for long. Now that he was there his heart was oddly thumping, and a myriad of anxious questions was going through his brain. Would she have changed? Would she recognize him? Would she even be at home?

He gave the butler his card and waited. The house gave the same feeling that Pemberley did – too empty. He could hear muffled voices through the steps of the servant, a woman's voice, he thought, reading aloud. He was announced, and he heard the answer, from a male, older voice – "let him come in."

He was shown into a room that seemed part library, part drawing-room. There was a sofa and comfortable chairs near the fireplace, a desk in front of one of the windows, and a pianoforte in the corner. Mr. Bennet sat by the fireside, and his daughter stood next to him. Darcy was surprised by how old he looked. He had not paid a lot of attention to him when he had been at Netherfield, but he was certain that Mr. Bennet had not looked half so frail and tired.

He still looked alert, however, and he eyed Darcy with amusement and curiosity. His daughter seemed stunned to see Darcy.

She recollected herself enough to curtsey, but not enough to speak. It was up to the old gentleman to receive him. He apologized for not standing up and Darcy waved it aside. They exchanged civilities and Darcy stated his business. Mr. Bennet offered him some refreshments, which Darcy accepted. Miss Bennet almost ran out of the room to take care of it.

When she came back, her father had started unpacking his books, examining them and making comments. He had many inquiries about their relations in town, and soon was exchanging opinions about steam engines and their various applications with Mr. Darcy. Miss Bennet sat down for a moment, silent and fidgety. Then she stood up again, and started walking about the room and looking out of the window.

"Mr. Darcy – your carriage," she said. "The rain has become heavier, everything will get wet."

Darcy looked up. She was right – everything _would_ get wet.

"Would you not rather wait till it has stopped raining, sir?" asked Mr. Bennet from his chair. "It does not seem likely to stop soon, and the road will be bad."

"I meant to stop for the night at Leicester, but it does not matter. I can stop at Rugby, or Northampton," answered Darcy.

"I think it is unwise for you to make plans at this point. I am much mistaken if it will not get worse. You had better remain at Longbourn for the moment, and at worst, you can always stay the night here."

"I would not wish to force myself upon you," said Darcy, with a glance to Miss Bennet.

"Nonsense," said her father. "We're always happy to have company, are we not, my dear?"

"Yes, indeed," she said in a trembling voice.

Darcy looked at her. She had not lost any of her beauty. It had matured over the years, making her more irresistible than ever. This time, he would be wise. He would yield to the temptation, fully, no matter what the consequences were. He had trusted her with his fate once, and she had done the right thing. He would trust her again.

"So you see, Mr. Darcy, we will not take no for an answer," Mr. Bennet was saying. "You came with books and letters, and plenty of good things, we do not want you to leave so soon. We only hope you will make allowances for the simple style of living of an old man and his daughter."

"Thank you, sir."

Miss Bennet excused herself to go arrange his stay with the housekeeper, and Mr. Bennet started opening his letters.

"Jane tells me that Lady Pembroke has taken to calling on her," he said. "I wonder how much her husband owes my son-in-law. Don't you, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy was unsure how to react. He felt he had no business commenting on other people's letters, especially in such a sarcastic manner. But maybe Mr. Bennet was used to discussing his letters so much with his daughter that he simply _had_ to talk about them. In the end, he settled on vague answers that said as little as possible.

Miss Bennet took a long time to come back. She set about to fuss about her father, bringing him a blanket, poking the fire.

"My dear, we have a letter from Mary," said Mr. Bennet. "Would you read it to me? You know I can never make out her handwriting."

She looked at her father from the fireplace. Darcy strode over to her and took the poker out of her hand.

"Allow me," he said.

"Thank you," she answered in a hardly audible voice.

She sat down and started Mary's letter. It brought her father much amusement. It seemed to Darcy that, though Mrs. Wilson might be an oddity, Mr. Bennet ought not to laugh at her in front of a stranger. He kept poking, throwing more logs on the pile and fanning it, until the fire was strong enough to warm the whole room. When he was done, the other two had finished reading. Mr. Bennet praised his work. The rest of the morning was spent in conversation, mainly between the two gentlemen. Miss Bennet had taken up needlework and only occasionally said something.

When two o'clock struck, Mr. Bennet excused himself.

"I always lie down for a couple of hours in the afternoon," he said. "Please help yourself to any book, and feel free to ring the bell for anything. I trust I leave you in good company."

Miss Bennet stood up, too.

"If you will excuse me, I must give my father his draughts. I will be back shortly."

Mr. Bennet was hardly out of the room when he whispered to his daughter.

"First he woos the Johnsons, then the Gardiners, and now he comes to see us. What do you think he is about, Lizzy?"

"I am sure I have no idea."

"I think he is looking for the secrets of the steam engine, do you not think?"

"If he is looking for them at Longbourn, he must be desperate."

"Come on, Lizzy, you must be as curious as I am as to why he is seeking out our family so much."

"No, sir. The poor man has lost his wife in a tragic manner, and now he is seeking consolation with steam engines. He is only here to do a favour to Mr. Johnson. I am sure it is nothing more."

"Well, well, if you say so. But I will try to get it out of him at dinner."

Elizabeth humoured her father as well as possible, but she was as mystified as he was by Mr. Darcy's behaviour. Since Jane had never mentioned him in her letters, and Mrs. Gardiner only mentioned him occasionally, she fancied he was a better acquaintance of Mr. Johnson than the rest of them. How could it be otherwise, when he had been so open in his disgust of her relations? She was certain he could not care anymore about her – or else he would never have come. He seemed to have improved in civility, but that could be anything – people changed so much in seven years. Before going back to the library, she resolved to appear as composed and indifferent as possible. She doubted very much that he would be as chatty with her as with her father.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

She was wrong. Darcy had had enough time to compile a list of topics, and was determined to make the conversation take off. Gone were the days when he was tongue-tied in her presence.

When she came back, he was standing by the window.

"I hope it is not raining as badly in Derbyshire, or my peaches will be ruined," he said.

She said nothing.

"I think I understood from Mrs. Gardiner that you had visited Pemberley," he persisted.

She blushed.

"I hope you liked it."

"Yes, I did," she finally said. "It is beautiful place."

"I'm glad to hear it."

But she had taken up her needlework again, and did not even look up.

For a moment, Darcy was at a loss to say something without boasting about his estate.

"I hope Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner will come to visit me for a few weeks in the summer," he finally said.

She looked up in surprise.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner! At Pemberley?"

"Yes. Mrs. Gardiner has some acquaintances in the neighbourhood and Mr. Gardiner can fish in the park. If he can take time away from his business, it will be delightful."

"I was not aware you had more than a passing acquaintance with my uncle and aunt," she said.

Darcy knew where her confusion came from. He had amends to make, and he had better make them as soon as possible. He set out to praise the Gardiners as warmly as he could, confident that it was no less than they deserved. The more he said, the more she blushed. But she looked pleased, and he was soon persuaded by her manner that she was not unwilling to forgive his old insults.

From that point, conversation became easier. They canvassed many subjects, from the housekeeper at Pemberley to the difference between Mr. Bingley and Lady Catherine de Bourgh as managers of Rosings Park, and Mrs. Johnson's success in the ton. Darcy had never felt so happy to be considered more entertaining than needlework.

He had just started telling her about Mr. Bingley's younger sister's nonsensical elopement with a Mr. Rushworth, and how Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst had chased them from London to Scotland and back to Northamptonshire, where they had found the couple married and living on their estate, and the new Mrs. Rushworth in a dispute with her mother-in-law, when a carriage was heard. Miss Bennet recognized it as belonging to the Gouldings.

"They are having a large party for dinner, tomorrow," she said by way of explanation.

A Miss Anna Goulding was introduced. She looked no older than eighteen and was carrying what appeared to be half the contents of her wardrobe.

"Oh, Miss Bennet!" she said, rushing towards her, "I begged Papa to lend me the carriage, you must advise me! I don't know what to wear for tomorrow, and you know that…"

She saw Darcy and gave him an apprehensive glance. She then whispered something in Miss Bennet's ear.

"Well," she answered, "in that case we must have you look as smart as possible. Anna, this is Mr. Darcy-de Bourgh, a family friend. Mr. Darcy, this is Miss Anna Goulding."

The two ladies were soon deep in discussion about muslin and gloves. Darcy, not wishing to intrude on such feminine conversation, hid behind the newspaper, savouring his title of family friend while feigning interest in the horse-races.

Miss Goulding did not leave until four and without a promise from Miss Bennet that she would do something or other to the gown that had been decided on for the next day. She had many squeals of gratitude and adoration to make before she left.

When she was gone, it was time to get ready for dinner. Miss Bennet showed Darcy to his room. She was oddly blushing when she opened the door for him.

It was comfortable, not big, but with a good bed and a fire which seemed all the warmer for sound of the rain clattering against the windows. It was obviously a young woman's room. There was an old bonnet on top of the closet, and a few framed embroideries on the wall. One of them gave the game away – the name "Jane" in cross-stitch point pronounced it to be Mrs. Johnson's old room.

The Bennets had always been a very feminine family, he remembered as he contemplated the relics of Mrs. Johnson's previous life. There were five daughters, and the name of the youngest came back to him – Lydia. She had been very young, he recalled, and prone to chasing officers. So she was the scandal, wasn't she? He hoped for her sake that she was in a farm-house somewhere, and not come upon the town. Those young women always looked so pitiable, and made him wish that human nature was different.

Dinner was served in the breakfast parlour. Mr. Bennet apologized for this.

"Lizzy and I eat all our meals here, since it's just the two of us. When my other daughters left the house, it seemed absurd to leave all those rooms open for nothing."

Miss Bennet mentioned Anna Goulding's visit to her father.

"And so she needed help with her dress because Mr. Lefroy dines at Haye-Park tomorrow?" he asked.

He then turned to Darcy.

"You should be here the week before a ball, Mr. Darcy. We get invaded by all the young ladies in the country. They all wish my daughter's advice on what to wear."

"Papa, you are exaggerating…"

"I dare say Miss Goulding's efforts were unnecessary," remarked Darcy. "If Mr. Lefroy really likes her, it won't matter what she is wearing."

"But Mr. Darcy, you have a sister," replied Miss Bennet with a smile, "Surely you must know that half the pleasure in Mr. Lefroy's visit is in deciding what to wear!"

Darcy had to confess that, whatever Georgiana's sartorial preoccupations were, she had never shared them with him.

Mr. Bennet's mind soon went back to steam engines. His nap had clearly restored him, and he had many questions to ask Darcy – many more than Darcy could answer. This seemed to surprise his host, who had taken him for an authority on the matter. Miss Bennet remarked that it was not to be imagined that all Mr. Johnson's friends should be as fascinated as he was with steam engines. After all, Mr. Johnson had many other pursuits.

Mr. Johnson's interest in politics and in banking were now canvassed, his friendships with several members of the House of Lords and the House of Commons, and his trade with the West Indies. Darcy had the distinct impression that he was being questioned about his acquaintance with him, and possibly made fun of. But he could hardly reveal that what interested him most about Mr. Johnson was his sister-in-law, and so he feigned an interest in politics beyond what he had ever felt, gave a hint about considering a run for Parliament, and remained silent on some of the topics on which he most disagreed with his hosts' relation.

Formalities were observed as well as they could, and after dinner Miss Bennet retired to the library.

"Let us not make her wait too long," said Mr. Bennet as he helped Darcy to brandy.

"It must be a great comfort for you to have your daughter live with you," observed Darcy.

"You mean to say it is very selfish of me, and I dare say you are partly right – no, no, don't deny it, I have had too many a remonstrance from Mr. Johnson not to know my faults. But I flatter myself that I know Elizabeth's disposition as well as anybody else, and that she is happier single than badly married. Besides, she will have a few thousand pounds upon my death (whatever I am able to save), and she has some true friends who will be happy to assist her in anything. Of course I would have been happier if the right man had asked for her hand, but that never happened, and it is unlikely to happen now. She is not getting any younger, after all."

Darcy said nothing. It had often given him goose bumps to think against what kind of future she had refused his hand, and how much honesty, even towards a man she thought the most worthless of villains, was worth to her. He was glad to find her situation improved. He had often wished a handsome, sensible and agreeable baronet to come her way, only to become jealous of such an imaginary character, and to berate himself for his own selfishness.

Staring at the dreary countryside, he dwelt on the expression Mr. Bennet had used, _badly married_. Who better than himself had proved to be a bad husband, who had proposed to one woman in such a disgraceful manner, and helped another to her ruin by marrying her? How could anybody suppose that Miss Bennet would accept him now, or that her father would give his consent to the match?

He was shaken from his reverie by his host, who proposed that they should take their drinks to the library, where Miss Bennet was undoubtedly waiting for them.

The evening passed quietly away. Darcy offered to read to Mr. Bennet, observing that Miss Bennet was needed with Miss Goulding's gown, with which he would be no help at all. This earned him a smile, and he pressed his luck.

"I hope you will reward me with some music later," he said. "I remember listening to you with much pleasure at Lucas Lodge and Rosings Park."

She turned absolutely scarlet and buried herself in her work.

She recovered enough, however, and her performance was just as he remembered it to be – playful, unaffected and charming. Her technique had improved over the years, and Darcy could well imagine that in her hours of boredom, in the afternoon, practising the instrument was a welcome distraction. He requested more, praised her performance (much to her embarrassment and the satisfaction of her father), and engaged her in conversation about the latest music from London. He was not surprised to find her more partial to Mozart than Beethoven or Schubert.

It ended too soon. Supper was served early, and after a few games of backgammon with Mr. Bennet and his daughter working on the gown nearby, they retired to bed. There was good hope that the weather would improve by the morning, and an early breakfast was ordered to allow Mr. Darcy to reach Pemberley by nightfall.

Darcy could not help noticing that Miss Bennet had frequently glanced at him during the evening. He wished he could read anything in it other than curiosity. She had not met him with composure, but after what had passed between them, even after so many years, it was not a great surprise. If he had been in her place, he would not have dropped his resentment so soon. She had not looked at him with the veiled contempt she had been used to, and that, to his detriment, he had failed to notice until it was too late. The situation, therefore, was not hopeless, and another look of hers was all the encouragement he needed.

It seemed almost unreal that after so many years of estrangement, he was suddenly sleeping under the same roof as her. He felt rather restless at the thought, and sleep was elusive. He wondered if she was thinking about this. Had his proposal, and his subsequent letter, ever had the same significance for her as it had for him? Or had she just dismissed it as an unpleasant incident caused by a badly-behaved suitor? She had not forgotten it, of that he was sure. But he longed to know if her embarrassment came just from the memory of what had happened in Kent, or from a memory – even unfriendly – of him.

The next day, the sky had cleared up and it promised to be a beautiful day. Miss Bennet joined Darcy at breakfast.

"My father will probably not come down before you leave," she said. "He sleeps very badly, and I let him sleep as much as possible."

He assured her that he did not mind in the least.

"Do you have any plans to be in town next winter?" he asked.

"No, none at all. I never leave Longbourn unless Mrs. Johnson can come to take my place and Mr. Johnson can never spare her in the winter. She can usually come in October, though. I will probably go to stay with my uncle and aunt for a month, then."

"In October! I may cross town on my way from Pemberley to Rosings, then. Maybe…" he hesitated. "I will travel from Pemberley to town in July. Would you allow me – or maybe I ask too much – to call on Longbourn then?"

Miss Bennet looked surprised at the request.

"Of course! I am sure I – we – my father will be happy with your company."

"Thank you."

And on this happy note, he drove off to Pemberley.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

Once he arrived home, he started a letter to thank Mr. Bennet for his hospitality. His thanks did not fill the page, though, and so he wrote something about what he had read in the newspaper about the _SS Savannah_ and how the orchard was doing at Pemberley.

A few days later, he received an answer.

_Dear Sir,_ it read,

_I am happy to hear about your safe arrival. I hope that you will have a good fruit-picking._

_Yesterday, we received a call from Sir William Lucas, who you will remember from your visit in Hertfordshire. He is very well, and sends you his compliments. You will recall that he is the father of Mrs. Collins, Elizabeth's childhood friend and the wife of Mr. Collins, the rector of Hunsford. He brought a letter from her. Mr. and Mrs. Collins are very well. She told about a picnic at Rosings Park, which had been a great success. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were in good health, as well as their children. Mrs. Collins wrote that sh had admired Mrs. Bingley's new bonnet. The strawberries of Rosings were almost ripe, and she is looking forward to picking them. Sir William and Lady Lucas intend to travel to Kent in the summer._

_The weather around Meryton continues very well. The ground is not muddy anymore. Fortunately, the apple blossom was not too damaged by the rain. The strawberry fields, however, were flooded._

_Elizabeth tells me that Miss Goulding was very happy with her gown. By all accounts, the dinner was very agreeable._

_Yours, etc._

_H. Bennet_

It was an odd letter. The handwriting was much too feminine to be Mr. Bennet's, and Darcy was very much mistaken if he had not dictated the first few lines to his daughter and let her fill the page as she saw fit.

He replied, and soon he was the established correspondent of Mr. Bennet. He never betrayed his suspicion that it was the daughter he was writing to more than the father, and he was certain that Miss Bennet tried to keep her writing as masculine as possible. But the gossip was just a little bit too feminine, and there was the occasional mention of occupations that could not be Mr. Bennet's, unless he secretly trimmed bonnets at night.

Darcy wondered what _he_ thought about it. Was he aware of what was going on? Did he turn a blind eye? Darcy was unsure of the propriety of it, but he reasoned that Miss Bennet would never write anything in her father's name without his consent. Besides, the idea of news from her, of pages in her handwriting, was too tempting to let it go. He had lived too long without her to be able to do without it.

It was good that he had this correspondence to sustain him, because there was not much more to keep him in a good mood. He was unable to leave Pemberley all summer. There was a drought in Derbyshire, followed by some heavy thunderstorms that caused considerable damage. He was much needed during June and July to supervise the repairs and to ensure that everybody on his grounds was provided with all they needed. The situation caused several disputes among his tenants that proved difficult to settle. Moreover, he found out that several of his servants had been stealing from him and needed replacement. And as if that were not enough, he received a letter from Wickham begging for money. He got one of those about once every few years, and they always put him in an extremely black mood. He crumpled it and threw it in the fire, wondering, as always, if the man were not doing it for the pleasure of making him feel worse. In all, it was one of the worst months of July he had had in years.

But it ended, and in August, the Gardiners came to visit him with their children. Because of the drought, he could not provide Mr. Gardiner with the fishing he had lured him with, but the gentleman did not seem to mind in the least. He and his wife spent a lot of time touring the park and calling on Mrs. Gardiner's acquaintances in Lambton. Their daughters, two young girls of fifteen and thirteen, practised on Georgiana's old pianoforte and used her old drawing supplies – to great effect. Their two sons spent the entire month in the park and only appeared for meals. It was all their mother could do to persuade them to sleep in the house. The Gardiners apologized over and over again for their children's wild behaviour, but Darcy secretly enjoyed it. It felt good to have children at Pemberley. He wished it happened more often.

They had spent a night at Longbourn, too, before coming to Derbyshire, and they told him that everything was as usual. Darcy told them about his own stay. Persuaded as he now was that Miss Bennet had never told anyone about his proposal (except maybe Mrs. Johnson), he allowed himself to praise her appearance, her affectionate behaviour to her father and her neighbours, her performance on the pianoforte and her singing. Restraint in this was difficult, however. If Darcy did not raise any suspicion, it was a stronger proof of the Gardiners' partiality to their niece than of his discretion.

He mentioned that he had taken up a correspondence with Mr. Bennet. Mr. Gardiner was surprised.

"Lizzy must be getting better at coaxing him into writing, then," said his wife.

"I cannot believe that," said Mr. Gardiner. "My brother has not written a single letter himself in years. Pray, sir, are his letters very short?"

"Edward!"

Darcy assured Mr. Gardiner that Mr. Bennet's letters were perfectly good.

"Well, then, he must have taken a great liking to you, because the ones I get are mostly written by Lizzy" was his answer.

Darcy thought it best to change the subject. He asked if Miss Bennet would be in town in October. She would. He privately rejoiced.

August turned into September. The Gardiners left and the Bingleys came, together with the Rushworths and the Hursts. The gentlemen hunted, the ladies fussed over Georgiana's children and played music, and Darcy was impatient for October to arrive. Not only would their party in Kent, without the Rushworths and Hursts, be much more rational, but he would stop by London for ten days. He claimed it was for business, but in fact he had nothing else to do there but call on the Gardiners.

He knew almost to the day when Miss Bennet left Hertfordshire. The last letter he received from Mr. Bennet was in a very different handwriting than he was used to, and was only two sentences long. Evidently, Mrs. Johnson didn't presume to fill up her father's letters like her sister did.

A week before his departure, he received a letter from his cousin. General Fitzwilliam would be in London with his sister Alicia around the same time to attend to some business. The Fitzwilliam house was being refurbished, however, and they hoped that Darcy had room for them in his house.

Darcy had not forgotten how well the General had liked Miss Bennet, and how jealousy of his cousin had spurred him to propose to her. It was not without apprehension, therefore, that he invited his cousins. He decided not to mention Miss Bennet to Fitzwilliam if he could.

They had hardly arrived, however, and he had hardly paid his first visit to Gracechurch Street, before Fitzwilliam came home with the following apostrophe:

"Darcy, you dog, you have been hiding things from me!"

With a sinking heart, he asked what he meant.

"Guess who I met in Bond Street today? Miss Bennet! The same Miss Bennet we met in Kent a few years ago! And I heard from her that you had been calling on her at her uncle and aunt's!"

"I did not know you were interested in renewing the acquaintance."

"Interested? I will always be interested in Miss Bennet's acquaintance. I cannot believe she never got married!"

The general went on to extol her charms, much in the same way he had done on their trip from Kent that year. It was less painful now, but Darcy was still not happy to hear that she had admired his cousin's promotion, or that he had promised to accompany Darcy the next time he called on the Gardiners, which he had decided to do the next day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

Mrs. Gardiner was sitting with Mrs. Holmes and Miss Bennet. There were introductions to be made, but Fitzwilliam lost no time in making inquiries to Miss Bennet and generally making up for all those lost years. He was soon entirely engrossing her attention, leaving his cousin to be civil to the other two ladies. After a while, a child wandered into the room. He was about six years old and seemed very intimidated by the two gentlemen. He went to Miss Bennet for protection.

"Hello," said Fitzwilliam pleasantly. "What's your name?"

"John," he answered with Miss Bennet's encouragement.

Darcy looked at the boy. He was not one of the little Gardiners – he was not as well dressed as them – but he was also too well-dressed to belong to the servants. There was something familiar about him, but Darcy couldn't place what. It was slightly unnerving.

"Who is your father?" asked Fitzwilliam.

"I don't know," answered John.

The ladies laughed, but there was something strained about their merriment. They quickly shooed him out of the room into the care of a maid. No explanation was given to the gentlemen as to who he was.

But Fitzwilliam's excessive friendliness with Miss Bennet drove John out of Darcy's mind. It made him miffed enough to give his cousin a word of caution on the way back, saying that if he didn't check his behaviour, an offer of marriage would soon be expected from him.

"I don't think Miss Bennet has any expectations of the kind," answered Fitzwilliam. "When we were in Kent, I gave her a hint about it, and I dare say she understands that my situation has not changed much."

"That you wish her not to have any expectations, I have no doubt," answered Darcy. "But you assume too much of her memory and her knowledge of you."

"Very well, then, I shall give her another hint," replied Fitzwilliam casually.

"It is not merely of _her_ expectations I am talking," insisted Darcy. "Her aunt was looking at you – I saw it. For Heaven's sake, stop being so particular with her or her entire family will expect your engagement."

"Darcy, aren't you being overly cautious? It was _one_ visit, after seven years of discontinued acquaintance. If her family expects me to propose after that, then they must think _you_ are secretly married to her already."

Darcy protested, said that his case was different, that he was a friend of the Gardiners and of Mr. Bennet, but his tone had betrayed him. He got laughed at all the way to Mayfair.

Darcy did his best to follow his own advice, but he still called more often on Mrs. Gardiner than he did on Mr. Johnson – the reverse of what his behaviour had been in the spring. Darcy did not notice it, but Mr. Johnson did, and far from attributing it to the presence of one sister, he attributed it to the absence of the other.

There was one advantage to having Lady Alicia as a guest that Darcy was determined to use. He wanted to invite Mr. Johnson and their relatives for dinner, just like they had invited him all spring. He had General Fitzwilliam convince his sister to act as hostess. Lady Alicia had never been able to refuse her younger brother anything, and soon a very civil invitation was sent to Mr. Johnson, the Gardiners with Miss Bennet, the Holmeses and the Wilsons. Darcy was anxious to honour his guests – especially one of them – as well as possible. Everybody was impressed, except Lady Alicia, who was very unhappy to find Mr. Johnson a banker, Mr. Gardiner a tradesman, and the other gentlemen mere clerks. Mr. Johnson, for his part, suspected his host of extreme duplicity – clearly, the evening was a smokescreen to conceal Darcy's intentions towards Mrs. Johnson.

It was a strange evening. Lady Alicia was as ungracious as possible. Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Holmes spent most of their time glaring at Mrs. Holmes, who was fascinated by General Fitzwilliam, who was in turn determined to poke fun at Darcy with Miss Bennet, who seemed to be suspecting something. She was kept busy, however, by trying to contain her sister's enthusiasm for regimentals with the help of Mrs. Gardiner. The latter's husband did his best to keep the conversation going with Darcy and Mr. Johnson and to save Mr. Wilson from oblivion. They were all glad when coffee was served and Miss Bennet sat down at the instrument. After that, the only thing Darcy had left to deal with was Fitzwilliam's insistence to have Darcy join him in his superlative praise of her performance.

When the guests were gone and Lady Alicia had retired for the evening, Darcy asked his cousin what on earth he had meant by his behaviour.

"Darcy, you have to understand that Miss Bennet is not the kind of woman who will be won over by your money," Fitzwilliam answered. "You will have to make an effort if you wish to get her hand."

"What makes you think I have any such intention?" Darcy asked.

He would have liked to seem cool and unperturbed, but Fitzwilliam had taken him so much by surprise that his voice sounded squeaky and his face felt flushed. The general was not fooled.

"I have seen you look at her," he said. "You cannot deny it, Darcy. Come, tell me, how long have you been in love with her?"

"Fitzwilliam, whatever my feelings are for Miss Bennet – and I will not deny that she is charming – it does not necessarily follow that I intend to propose to her."

"Why not? Why should you not marry again? You are still young and healthy – and your first marriage was exalted enough, you can choose whomever you like, now."

"Fitzwilliam, you have seen how marriage agrees with me!"

"Yes, I have. I am not going to say that marrying Anne was the best decision in your life…"

"Then don't try to talk me into another marriage!" Darcy interrupted.

"Pray, cousin, hear me out," said the general in a patient, yet firm tone. "Marriage with Anne was almost forced upon you by Lady Catherine. It was foolish of her to unite two people who were not made for each other like you and Anne. It was equally foolish of you - and of Anne - to yield to her wishes."

"Do you really think I need to be told that?"

"No, Darcy, I don't. What I am trying to tell you is that it was foolish of you to marry Anne. She was the wrong woman for you, just like you were the wrong man for her. But I also think that you did the best you could in the situation, and that what happened to Anne was not your fault."

"How can you say that? How can you, in one breath, accuse me of being the wrong man for Anne, and then tell me that her death was not my fault?"

"Because many people marry the wrong person, and they don't die from it. Look around you, Darcy. Do you really think that there are not many couples who marry foolishly? Do you truly believe that Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth are happy together, or that Mrs. Johnson never pines for a younger and more handsome husband? But they do not run mad, Darcy, they do not get ill, and they do not die. They live on, albeit less happily than they would if they had been wiser."

Fitzwilliam paused, but Darcy said nothing.

"For Heaven's sake," the general resumed, "you know as well as I do that Anne had been smothered by her mother all her life. After Lady Catherine's death, it was inevitable that she would make up for all those lost years, married or not married. By marrying her, at least you managed to preserve her respectability, even if you could not keep her from running from ball to ball. Her illness was caused by the years spent in complete idleness at Rosings much more than by her six months of excesses."

Darcy was leaning on the table, looking at his shoes. He wished he could agree with his cousin.

"Darcy, stop blaming yourself for everything. It is high time you were a bit happy, and I think Miss Bennet would do perfectly well. She is no Anne, Darcy. She is a practical, intelligent, reliable woman, and I think you could make her just as happy as she could make you. If there is one woman in my acquaintance who is not going to run wild, it is her."

"She is also a woman who has refused every offer of marriage she ever got, including mine."

For a few second, General Fitzwilliam was stunned by this information. After a speechless moment, he asked Darcy to repeat what he had said.

"I had no idea about that," he said when he had taken it in. "When did that happen?"

"Seven years ago, in Kent."

Darcy sighed.

"To use her words, I was the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry."

"Good God, these are strong words. I had no idea women said such things when they refuse an offer of marriage," said the general.

"She was angry. Let us just say that I said some things about her family that I should not have said. It was a badly judged offer, and I would not see reason. I lost my temper, and she delivered me a well-deserved reproof. I have no proof that she ever forgave me."

Fitzwilliam saw how this affected his cousin and gave him a sympathetic look.

"She truly broke your heart then, didn't she?" he said. "I can remember now, you seemed very unhappy that year when we left. I was rather worried about you."

Darcy said nothing. For a few minutes, the two men stood in silence, deep in thought.

"You were never able to forget her, were you?" asked Fitzwilliam.

"No, I was not," said Darcy. "And I confess that when I saw her sister again, I could not resist the idea of seeing her. It was the only reason I befriended her family."

"Well, we have all been wondering about that," answered General Fitzwilliam. "You have rather raised my father's hopes of seeing you run for Parliament. I have to say, I am rather glad to find otherwise. Politics would not agree with you."

Darcy smiled ruefully.

"But, to return to Miss Bennet," resumed the general. "Do you have no hope that she might one day be prevailed on to change her mind? She does not, at present, seem to dislike you."

"I have no idea. Maybe, maybe not. It has been a long time, but I have said such things to her that she would be well justified in hating me forever."

"Well, do not despair. You have enough good qualities to attach a woman, if you take the trouble. I have no doubt you are as able as any other man to make yourself agreeable to a woman."

"Courting her is not going to be easy, Fitzwilliam. She spends most of her time with her aging father, in Hertfordshire, where you know I never have anything to do."

"But you still managed to stay there a night last summer, and you managed to see her now in London. You have befriended her entire family. No, Darcy, I am far from believing your situation is desperate."

"You forget that I am by no means the only man whose hand she refused. Holmes and Wilson, who you met tonight, only offered for her sisters after she had refused them. She also refused Mr. Collins, the rector at Hunsford. Both her uncle and her father agreed that they would be very careful in letting her choose her husband."

"Yes, Holmes, Wilson and Collins. Three men exactly calculated to sweep Elizabeth Bennet off her feet. Compared to them, anybody else is dull and fades into insignificance. No, I can completely understand your anxiety on that account! Why, tonight, I only _nearly_ forgot they were there."

"But do you think she would agree to leave Longbourn?" Darcy asked.

"I cannot answer that. But I think the question is worth asking, and that you ought to ask it. Come on, Darcy, think about it. If she accepts, I swear I will sing her praises to everybody in the family in such a way that even Alicia will want to give her precedence."

Darcy smiled. If he could convince Miss Bennet to accept him, it would indeed be wonderful. He remembered the first time the idea had struck him in earnest, in his room at Rosings, after an evening in her company. He had tried to fight his desires, but it had been too irresistible and in the end there was nothing left for him to do but surrender. Now that he had a second chance with her, the same fantasies as then made his hands tremble, but he knew that he couldn't let them overwhelm him. If he did, he would be in danger of becoming just as oblivious to Miss Bennet's thoughts and feelings as he had seven years ago.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

The next day was to be his last in London. He had offered to carry any letters and parcels for the Collinses, and he set out to make his parting calls. He started with Mr. Johnson, who was in a private conference, but would not be long. Darcy waited outside his office.

The door was ajar, and Darcy could hear the conversation within. For a moment, he could not help listening.

"General Fitzwilliam paid you a lot of attention, last night," Mr. Johnson was saying.

There was a pause.

"I hope you are not going to be a simpleton, Lizzy," he continued. "Even your father has his limits, and I doubt even he would consider the General beneath you. And I hardly need point out to you that your father's aims for you are _not_ realistic."

"Yes, sir," answered Miss Bennet.

She seemed to be keeping her tone as neutral as possible. Mr. Johnson scraped his throat.

"Now, as to Mr. Darcy," he said. "I have a few questions to ask you about him. When he was in Hertfordshire, eight years ago, did he give Jane any particular attention?"

"None at all," she replied.

Darcy thought he could detect some amusement in her voice.

"How can you be certain of that?" asked Mr. Johnson.

"I was told, at the time, that he was engaged to his cousin," she answered after a slight hesitation. "Sir, I do not know what you are aiming at, but I can assure you that neither Jane not Mr. Darcy would ever engage in anything improper."

Mr. Johnson did not seem convinced.

"Wickham had some strange stories about Darcy," he said.

"Yes, and we all know how honourable _he_ turned out to be. If you are referring to his sob story about old Mr. Darcy's will, I can assure you he was lying. That living was given to him conditionally; he declined it and was compensated accordingly. Mr. Wickham imposed upon us all, sir."

"How do _you_ know about it?"

"I was told about it when I was in Kent that year."

"Wait a moment! Was that… before…"

"Yes."

"And you did not warn anybody about him?"

"No, I did not. I was told about it in confidence, and I could not foresee – I did not foresee – in short, I made a grave mistake, and I will have to live with that guilt all my life. But to come back to Mr. Darcy, I can vouch for his probity, as I dare say would many other people…"

It was enough. Darcy had no wish to let them know they had been overheard. As quietly as he could, he got into the next room and pretended to examine the bookshelves. This new information brought many questions with it.

That Miss Bennet was being pressured by her brother-in-law into marrying was hardly surprising, but it would make wooing her even more difficult. He felt a little insulted by Mr. Johnson's suspicions, but after all, that was what he got for listening at doors. It was not unreasonable for him to wonder why Darcy had sought his acquaintance, and Mrs. Johnson was beautiful enough to make any husband cautious. Had not Sir Arthur warned him before introducing them? Darcy was gratified by Miss Bennet's trust in him, however. She had believed him. It made his heart swell with affection for her, and he soon found it no problem to forgive her brother-in-law for his suspicions.

But how come Mr. Johnson knew Wickham? "We all know how honourable _he_ turned out to be," had been Miss Bennet's words. What was she referring to? He could only suppose that she meant the debts Wickham had left behind in Meryton. He had not been surprised to get letters from the tradesmen there, as well as those in Brighton, where the militia had gone later. He'd settled them, because it was after all his own fault that the colonel had not been warned about the scoundrel. But why had she spoken of her guilt? What had she meant by "before"? It was very strange.

Mr. Johnson's interview with his sister-in-law lasted only a few minutes longer. Darcy waited till he heard her walk out the door. He was received by Johnson with as much friendliness as ever, and not a hint about what had just happened.

In order to be sure he would catch Miss Bennet at home, he called on Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Holmes before Mrs. Gardiner. They had nothing for Mrs. Collins, however, and he was soon in Gracechurch Street. The butler made him wait, though. It was odd. The Gardiners had never stood on such ceremony before.

He was shown up, however, and he found both Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet in the drawing-room. In between them was the boy he had seen before – the two ladies seemed almost to be protecting him. They received him charmingly, however, and Miss Bennet had a letter ready for her friend, as well as some parcels. She gave him her compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, hoped he would have a pleasant time in Kent, and had a letter from her sister to show him, with news from her father. Mrs. Gardiner, too, had many questions about Rosings, and many an inquiry after Pemberley. He was made to stay over an hour, with little John sitting quietly on the sofa and giving him scared looks. Mrs. Gardiner tried very hard to keep Darcy for dinner. He was already engaged elsewhere, however, and had to leave.

The visit left him with a very strange feeling, and he couldn't stop thinking about it on the way to Rosings Park. There had been something about Miss Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner. They had wanted to keep him as long as possible, but it was not the usual way young ladies and their mothers tried to retain him. Especially Miss Bennet had looked very much unlike her usual self – there had been no playfulness, no archness. There had been embarrassment in her looks. Was it the conversation she had just had with her brother-in-law? But Mrs. Gardiner, too, had seemed haunted. Was he imagining things? Oh, how he wished he were in Miss Bennet's confidence!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

It almost looked like haunted-looking women were the fashion. Bingley received him as cheerfully as usual, telling him about all the balls, dinners and shooting parties he had planned for the winter, but Georgiana was standing behind him with a terrified look on her face. It had been a long time since a ball inspired fear in her, so Darcy could not at all understand what was scaring her until later that evening, when she asked him to come and see her in her room.

"There was a letter waiting for me when I came back from Pemberley," she told him without preamble.

She took a small key from her reticule and opened a box on her desk. She took a dirty piece of paper from it and handed it to him. Darcy unfolded it. It was a letter from Wickham, threatening to tell Bingley about Georgiana and his intended elopement if Mrs. Bingley did not pay him one thousand pounds.

"This is ridiculous!" cried Darcy.

He started pacing in front of the fireplace. After Wickham's letter in the summer, the mystery wasn't too difficult to solve.

"He must be getting desperate," he said. "Well, there is only one way about it. Do you prefer it if I am the one to tell Bingley?"

She nodded, looking very pale.

"Ring for him."

Bingley took it remarkably well. Darcy would never have thought anybody could withstand a revelation of that nature so easily, even his old friend. The only thing that upset Bingley was that neither Georgiana nor Darcy had ever told him before.

"Why did you not trust me, Darcy? Did you really believe it would make a difference with me that Georgiana made a mistake at the age of fifteen? Do we not all make mistakes at that age?"

Darcy apologized and pacified him as well as he could. But Bingley could never be angry for long, and was incapable of anger at all if Georgiana was crying, which was soon triggered by the dispute between her brother and her husband. It wasn't long before Bingley was consoling his wife as best as he could, holding her in his arms and stroking her hair. Half an hour later, he was just grateful that the crisis had been averted. Darcy offered to write a letter to Wickham to let him know his plan had been foiled. The return address on the letter was a public house in London.

It was the third time in a few months that Wickham had come to his notice. First that letter of the summer, then the conversation he'd overheard between Mr. Johnson and Miss Bennet, and now this. It made him almost wish that any of the other parasites that had imposed upon his father came back to haunt him instead. But none of them was so deeply rooted at Pemberley than Wickham, he reflected, and he would probably be plagued with begging letters till the end of his life.

Once the letter was sent, however, nothing more was heard from Wickham. Bingley kept Darcy well occupied, and he soon forgot everything about the matter. His only worry until Christmas was how to dodge Lady Metcalfe, who was clearly intent on seeing her daughter mistress of Pemberley.

The day after his arrival, he paid a visit to the Collinses in order to bring them the letters he had been entrusted with. Both husband and wife went out of their way to welcome him and thank him for the honour he was doing them. He was starting to wonder what the fuss was about, until he realised that he had not been back at Hunsford since his infamous proposal to Miss Bennet. He was, in fact, sitting in the very room where it had happened. It suddenly occured to him that, in all these years, he had, in fact, had a source of news from her, but he had never thought to ask Mrs. Collins about her friend. For a while, he marvelled at his own stupidity, but in the end he had to admit to himself that he had avoided Hunsford because of its memories. He had been only too happy to let Bingley deal with the entire village. He had slighted the Collinses, and during his stay, he did his best to make up for it by walking to the parsonage every few days. It was a punishment to listen to Mr. Collins's panegyrics, but he deserved no better.

With November letters from Longbourn started coming again, with the same regularity as before. The pleasure was a little lessened by the knowledge he had to share it with Miss Bennet's uncle (and probably her brother-in-law), but he learnt that this favour was by no means universal – according to Mrs. Collins, Mr. Bennet's letters to her husband were always very short.

There was no hint in them about the strange morning visit in Gracechurch Street, or Miss Bennet's stay in London at all. The only allusion to it – one that Darcy thought slightly puzzling – was a remark about Darcy having now met all of Mr. Bennet's grandchildren. He had indeed seen Mrs. Holmes's son and Mrs. Wilson's two daughters, but he had already seen them in the spring. Darcy could only suppose that Miss Bennet was unaware of this.

Christmas came and went, and soon it was time again to go to London again. But Darcy took no pleasure in it without Miss Bennet. He ached for a reason to go to Hertfordshire, but unless he proposed to her (and he doubted very much she would accept him), there was nothing he could do. He tried to amuse himself by redecorating his dining-room. He went to musical parties, and started dozens of books. But nothing could satisfy him – her opinions, her taste, her sharp sense of observation was missing in everything. Everything he did only served to amplify her absence in his life.

It reminded him very much of that one winter when he had tried so desperately to forget her. He had been just as restless then, just as displeased with everything around him. He remembered how desperately he had looked for a wife, deluding himself that this was only an infatuation that would go away as soon as he got married. But every woman had failed to live up to the list of criteria he had set up for his bride. Now he knew that such a woman could not exist and would never have satisfied him in any case, that no accomplishment or elegance or fortune could ever interest him as much as Miss Bennet's intelligence, practicality, liveliness and affectionate heart.

He often thought back to his last conversation with Fitzwilliam, especially what his cousin had said about Anne. Now he saw that his ready agreement with Lady Catherine's last wish had been the effect of despair, of the despondency brought on by his persuasion that he would never find another woman like Elizabeth Bennet. He had, in fact, thrown away his hand, because he had thought it was worthless. He wondered how Anne would have fared if he had not proposed to her or if she had married anybody else. She must have noticed that she was not as valued as a wife as she ought to have been, despite his efforts to hide his indifference. He had done for her as much as he could, but she had needed more in a husband than the exertions of a heartbroken man. It was no wonder that she had sought to forget her sorrow in the pleasures of London, and that she had let it swallow her. More than once did he visit her grave, praying that she could forgive him, and wondering if he could ever forgive himself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

As if in punishment, Mr. Bennet's letters stopped coming. It vexed Darcy beyond reason, and in a desperate attempt to hear something – anything – about Longbourn, he went to call on the Johnsons.

He found Mr. Johnson alone and in low spirits. His wife had left for Hertfordshire two days before – Mr. Bennet was very ill.

"I am sorry to hear it. I suppose that Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Holmes have gone with her?"

"No, they're still in London. Jane and Elizabeth didn't think it was necessary to send for them yet. I have to say I agree, Mary and Kitty would only be in the way – I wonder how those four came to grow up in the same house, the two younger have none of the sense of the elder."

"Did you ever meet Mrs. Bennet?" Darcy could not help asking.

"No," answered Mr. Johnson with a puzzled look. "I met Jane shortly after her mother's death."

For a moment, Mr. Johnson was lost in reverie.

"Heaven knows I have tried by best for them – I am well aware that I am not the dashing fellow a young woman dreams of, and that I demanded much from Jane when I married her – and she has never disappointed me. But I have always done my best to keep my end of the bargain. Nobody can say I do not have the best of intentions, whatever they think. Respectability is important in this world – they have spent too much time holed up at Longbourn – they have forgotten it."

Mr. Johnson was clearly talking more to himself than to Darcy, who thought it better to agree to the importance of respectability, hope that Mr. Bennet would soon be better, and steer the conversation towards the latest improvements of steam-ships. Mr. Johnson recollected himself, and showed him the plans of the improved vessels that would soon be crossing the Atlantic – with more speed than ever before. It was a case of delicacy, and Darcy felt that, if Miss Bennet had been able to witness it, she would have approved of him.

Mr. Bennet died before the end of January. Darcy travelled to Hertfordshire for the funeral, and made a particular point of condoling Miss Bennet.

"If there is anything I can assist you with, I would be more than happy to help you," he said. "Do you have any plans for the future?"

"I intend to remain at Longbourn for one or two months, in order to help Mrs. Collins get settled in, and then I will travel to London, where I will stay with my uncle and aunt."

"I will call on you there, then."

"Thank you."

And it was the last he saw of her for more than a month.

By mid-March he learnt of her arrival in Gracechurch Street. He went to call on her as soon as he could. In fact, he came so early that he found Miss Bennet still unpacking.

"I am sorry," he said. "I had understood that you had been in town for a few days already."

"You are right. I arrived two days ago. These are just some books that my father left me. They were delivered today. I was sorting through them."

"How are you doing?"

"I am very well, thank you. Mr. and Mrs. Collins are well installed at Longbourn, now. I dare say London will keep me well occupied."

Her tone of voice was determinedly cheerful. She clearly had no intention of dwelling on her grief.

"How is Mr. Collins adjusting to the management of the estate?" asked Darcy.

"As well as possible, I believe. My father left him very well-kept books and instructions."

"I should write to him to offer any advice that he may need."

She turned away to hide what he knew to be a smile.

"You are laughing at me, Miss Bennet," he said.

"Me! Not at all. I would never dare," she cried, blushing.

"I know better than to believe that," he answered with a smile. "But you will agree, I trust, that Mr. Collins has not had the advantage of learning how to manage Longbourn from Mr. Bennet, like I did from my father. I am sure he would be happy to have the ear of men with more experience of the business."

"Undoubtedly," she answered. "But perhaps Mr. Bennet _did_ pass on his knowledge to someone in his last few years, and perhaps this person told Mr. Collins as much as they could. I have no doubt, however, that my cousin would pay more deference to your opinion."

"Perhaps you are right."

He smiled to show her he had understood her, but she only blushed and looked away, adjusting her black shawl around her shoulders.

His calls in Gracechurch Street continued in the same style. Often she was sitting with her aunt or her sisters, and she would leave it to them to converse with him. He would try to engage her in conversation, and sometimes succeed, but only to find her retreating into silence after a while. He could not account for it. The best moments he spent with her were when he found her helping little John with his alphabet. It occurred to him that none of the arts women used to charm men – none of the accomplishments that were so much sought after – were anything to the simple sight of a woman teaching a child the alphabet. Such patience, such affection – how could he ever have been blind to it? The half hours they spent together quizzing John on his letters were some of the happiest he had had in a long time. He wished he knew how she felt about it. She never seemed displeased, but there was something almost demure about her, and he sometimes thought she was discouraging his attentions.

As to John, he continued to puzzle Darcy. He could not pinpoint who the child reminded him of. Even stranger, the relationship between the boy and the Gardiners was never explained to him. He did live in Gracechurch Street, however. Darcy concluded he must be the son of some less fortunate of their relations, who had sent him to learn a trade in Mr. Gardiner's firm. Six years old was a bit young to send a child from home, and John did not seem very happy at being in town. But Darcy was not enough acquainted with the customs of tradespeople to judge. It was probably a very common occurrence among them.

This torturous game, of calling on Miss Bennet every few days, and seeing his attentions received with willingness, and then unwillingness, continued for a few weeks. Darcy could only conclude that she was undecided about her feelings – a situation much better than what she had told him seven years ago, but still not what he was hoping for. During his visits, he was careful to appear more the friend than the admirer, because he did not wish to attract the attention of her brother-in-law, but he could not imagine how _she_ could doubt his intentions.

Or maybe she was too distraught over her father's death to even think about love – he should not rule that out. She did not seem very sad, but he knew well that she was too good a conversationalist to let on about her feelings. He remembered his own father's death, and how he had felt the entire weight of Pemberley crush onto his shoulders. It had taken a long time to extricate himself from underneath it, and to breathe again. But the loss of his father would never cease to be painful. It made him wonder how princes could be so eager to succeed their fathers – if the burden of one estate was too much, how much worse would an entire country not be? Then he thought about the differences between his situation and hers. At least, he had not been banished from his home, and he had not seen someone else take it over. He imagined leaving Pemberley without the certainty of ever going back, and the horror of it convinced him that, beyond a doubt, Miss Bennet's situation was much worse than his.

He decided to probe her relations about it, and one evening, as he was dining with the Johnsons, he asked in passing if Miss Bennet was comfortably installed at Gracechurch Street.

"After all," he said, "it cannot be easy for her to go from being mistress at Longbourn to being a guest in Gracechurch Street."

"I believe she bears it very well," answered Mrs. Johnson. "She was always happy there in the past, and my uncle and aunt have always been very fond of her."

"She will soon have a new house to be mistress of," added her husband. "Montgomery is tired of being outdone by Holmes and Wilson – I dare say he will propose as soon as she's out of mourning."

"I am sure my sister has no inclination to marry Mr. Montgomery," said Mrs. Johnson.

"Well then, she'd better make inclination for it. She can't hide behind her father anymore, Jane, and I'm not going to let her run wild. It's high time she did her duty to her family. It's not like she's getting any younger."

"I think we ought to respect my father's wishes on the matter."

"Your father had no such wishes! You know as well as I do that Lizzy had complete rule over him. That time is over, and you know it, and your sister should know it too."

There was rather a long pause after that, and Darcy felt more than a little resentment coming from Mrs. Johnson. He had never seen such firmness in her, and for the first time, he could trace a definite resemblance between her and her sister. Did Mr. Johnson have any idea what a Bennet sister looked like when provoked?

It also opened a more serious dilemma: either he made his intentions known and Mr. Johnson would spoil everything, or he did not and Mr. Montgomery would be there first. He was running out of time. For two days, he hesitated, and weighed the matter, and thought it over, going in circles more often than not, but in the end, excruciating as it was, he had no other choice than to open up to someone about his concerns and send them as an emissary to Miss Bennet to ask permission to court her. He considered who he could trust with such a mission, but there was not a single person with who the idea of such a conversation did not make him cringe. In the end, he settled on Mrs. Johnson. She had always been kind to him, and if anyone knew of his history with her sister, it was her. Why she had forgiven him for his part in separating her from Bingley he had no idea, but he had no doubt that she knew everything.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

On his way to the Johnsons' home, he thought over what he wanted to tell Mrs. Johnson. He was agitated and almost hoped that something would come up to make him postpone his explanation. He was rather surprised to hear he was expected.

He was shown into the drawing-room where he found Mrs. Johnson and Miss Bennet, both looking pale and anxious.

"Thank God, you're here!" cried Miss Bennet.

Mrs. Johnson offered him a seat.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, sir," said Mrs. Johnson.

"What is the matter?" he asked in astonishment.

"We have a matter of some delicacy to discuss with you," Mrs. Johnson said as she and Darcy sat down. "We wish we did not have to mention what must be a painful subject to you, but it is a matter of urgency and importance."

Miss Bennet, who was too upset to do anything but pace the room, now turned to him and asked,

"Mr. Darcy, this is a rather desperate measure, but we can leave no stone unturned – we are very sorry to cause you pain – do you have any idea of the whereabouts of Mr. Wickham?"

Whatever Darcy could have imagined, it was not that.

"No, I have not," he said. "The last time I heard from him, his return address was a public house in town."

"I told you he wouldn't know, Lizzy!" cried Mrs. Johnson.

"We had to ask, Jane. There was a possibility. Lord knows he never left _us_ alone!"

"What is this all about?" asked Darcy.

"There is no need…" started Mrs. Johnson, but she was interrupted by her sister.

"No, Jane! He ought to know. I should have told him a long time ago."

She turned away from them and started pacing the room again.

"In the summer of 1812," she started, "after – after we met in Kent – the militia Mr. Wickham belonged to left for Brighton. Our youngest sister, Lydia, was invited by the colonel and his wife to be their companion there. It did not occur to me to share with her any of what you had told me about him, or to put her on her guard. A few weeks later, we learnt that she had eloped with Mr. Wickham. They had not gone to Scotland, however, but to London, and my father and my uncle were unable to trace them. After his debts were paid, there was nothing we could hope for from the law."

"Good God," cried Darcy. "To think I did that! I had no idea… Believe me, madam, if I had known about your sister, I would never have paid his debts."

"Do not be distressed, sir," said Mrs. Johnson. "You acted with generosity, and you could not have known about the elopement. Nobody can blame you for this."

"I agree with my sister – you are not to blame in this matter," said Miss Bennet in a decisive tone. "Six months later," she continued, "Lydia turned up on my uncle's doorstep. Mr. Wickham had abandoned her. She was with child. My father arranged for her to live on a farm, in Devonshire, where she still is today. She gave birth to a son."

She paused to rearrange her shawl.

"For two years, we heard nothing about Mr. Wickham, until Jane married Mr. Johnson. Two weeks after the wedding, he came to see Mr. Johnson, offering to marry Lydia on the condition that his debts were to be paid and that he would get employment at Mr. Johnson's firm. My brother was tempted to accept, but my father refused."

"I still think all this could have been avoided, Lizzy, if he had accepted. Maybe Mr. Wickham was trying to mend himself and undo the damage he had done."

"Jane, what damage could have been undone at that point? Could he have brought my mother back to life? Pray, how could he have restored Lydia's reputation after all this time?"

She stopped.

"Forgive me, Jane, I am angry, and I forget myself. It is hardly helpful to go over all this again." Turning back to Darcy, she said:

"Mr. Wickham disappeared again, but not before telling his creditors about Mr. Johnson, who was left with no choice but to satisfy them."

"It was a very troubled time for my husband, politically," added Mrs. Johnson.

Darcy nodded. Miss Bennet continued.

"For a long time, we heard nothing from Mr. Wickham, except for the occasional renewal of his offer to Mr. Johnson – and you can imagine how he had changed his mind about that. But last fall, my uncle and aunt proposed that my nephew come to London, where he could be brought up to be a clerk in my uncle's firm. We all thought it was a good idea and my father sent for John in Devonshire. At the beginning of October, I travelled with him to London. A few weeks later – the morning after we dined with you, I believe – I received a letter from Mr. Wickham, demanding that I surrender his son to him. You can scarcely imagine how glad we were when you came to call on us, sir – he would not dare anything with you in the house."

It all made sense to him now – John's familiar look, the insistence of the ladies to keep him at Gracechurch Street, the allusion to grandchildren in Mr. Bennet's letter. He thought back to the failed blackmail attempt on Georgiana – what on earth possessed Wickham to act in such an erratic way, to throw all caution and propriety out of the window, to burn all his bridges?

"I informed my uncle and my brother," continued Miss Bennet, "and they wrote to refuse him. Whatever John is, he is family, and it is not in our habit to abandon our children. God knows what Wickham would do with him! We were all very cautious never to leave John alone, and to tell the servants to turn away anyone they did not know. I took him back with me to Longbourn, but of course, after my father's death, he had to come back to London. We hadn't heard from Mr. Wickham ever since his letter to me, so we thought it was safe. But two days ago, John went missing, along with my aunt's new housemaid! My uncle, my brothers, the entire family has been looking everywhere, but how can we find him? How can we ever get him back?"

She flung herself in a chair and hid her face in her hands. Mrs. Johnson went over to comfort her, but was looking hardly less distressed than her sister. Darcy sat staring in front of him for several minutes. This was worse than anything Wickham had ever done. He tried to piece all the information together, but it was impossible. He stood up and took to tracing Miss Bennet's steps in front of the fireplace.

"What has been done to recover your nephew?" he asked.

"My uncle has interrogated every servant in the house to find out if they knew anything about the housemaid," said Mrs. Johnson, "but she had only been there for a week, and had kept very much to herself. My husband and my brothers have gone to inquire after her with every agency they could think of, but with no success. My aunt took her because of a recommendation of a friend's housekeeper, who had only a slight acquaintance with her. We never thought Mr. Wickham would have a friend infiltrate my uncle's servants!"

"And what was the housemaid's name?"

"Sally Younge."

Could the housemaid have been using her real name? Could she be a relative of Mrs. Younge, Georgiana's old governess? Could she still be helping Wickham? He paced up and down the room some more, thinking of what he should do and what he should say, and once he had reached a decision, took leave from the two sisters. As he left the room, he saw that Mrs. Johnson was helping Miss Bennet with lavender water in an attempt to calm her down.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them. I would also like to apologize for the long delay since the last chapter, but real life has been too hectic lately for me to concentrate on writing.

Darcy directed his carriage directly to Edwards Street, where he knew Mrs. Younge had started letting lodges after she had left Darcy's service. He inquired after Mrs. Younge to the girl who opened the door to him and was relieved to find that she was still mistress of the house.

Mrs. Younge recognized Darcy immediately and turned pale at his sight. Darcy didn't miss this and he asked, without preamble, if she was still in contact with Mr. Wickham.

"That depends on what you want," she answered.

She was trying to sound as haughty as possible, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her. Darcy stifled the anger he felt at her impertinence.

"I understand that Mr. Wickham has shown considerable interest in a young boy called John," he said.

Behind him, the girl who had opened the door gasped.

"There are many boys called John," said Mrs. Younge.

"This boy has left his family two days ago," Darcy continued. "They have been searching for him."

"What is that to us?" asked Mrs. Younge with feigned indifference.

"Another person from that household disappeared at the same time," said Darcy. "A housemaid named Sally Younge. Surely that name isn't so common?"

"And why are you interested in this?" asked Mrs. Younge.

"I am an intimate friend of the Gardiners," said Darcy, "and I am interested in all their concerns. They wish to have the child back. They do not know yet how to direct their search, but if they knew where Sally Younge can be found, things might become unpleasant for her and her family. However, if the child were returned unharmed to his family, I dare say the incident might be forgotten."

"Maybe the child is already with his family," answered Mrs. Younge.

"Mama!" cried the young lady.

Darcy ignored her, but did not miss her meaning. The look on Mrs. Younge's face told him that she was not happy that the information of her daughter was in the open.

"I have always thought of a child's family as those who take the best care of him," he said.

"Mr. Wickham has great ambitions for his son," snapped Mrs. Younge.

"And what are these ambitions?" asked Darcy. "Pray, what help can Mr. Wickham be to his son when Mr. Gardiner has already made arrangements to teach him a respectable trade?"

Mrs. Younge considered this for a moment.

"Maybe Mr. Wickham can be talked out of it," she said, "but it's going to take a lot of money."

"Really?" said Darcy.

He was almost amused by the predictability of the conversation.

"Two thousand pounds," said Mrs. Younge.

"Two thousand pounds to be bribed out of the care and education of a child? I think Mr. Wickham should learn to be realistic."

Darcy turned around to leave. Wickham was too desperate not to come after him with a more reasonable proposal. He took care to include Miss Younge in his salutation. The girl looked terrified.

He was pondering his next move on the way to his carriage when someone called his name. Miss Younge had come after him.

"Maybe I can bring you the child," she said, "if you can pay me twenty pounds."

She looked defiantly at him, as if she expected him to scold her. Her demands were modest enough, however, and Darcy had no trouble acceding to them. He gave her his address.

"Can I come tonight, at six o'clock? It's the only time I can leave the house without Mama noticing."

"I will be expecting you."

And she ran back into the house.

Once she was gone, he had time to contemplate what he had done. Not only had he taken it upon himself to bring John back to his aunt, but he would have been ready to pay a great deal more than twenty pounds for it. Of course, if he had gone to the colonel of that militia to warn him about Wickham, at the time, and if he had not paid Wickham's debts after he had left Meryton, this child's destiny would have been very different. So of course, John had a claim on his compassion. But if Darcy looked at himself honestly, he had to confess that what had spurred him into action was the sight of Miss Bennet in distress. All his life, he had worked hard to find every one of his weaknesses in order to overcome them, and now he had found the one that nothing could harden him against it, and he did not even wish to overcome. He would have to go through life knowing that this one woman would only have to look unhappy for him to be ready to ruin himself for her.

But was it really so bad? Had he not already once thrown himself at her mercy, and had she not treated him with honesty, and given him exactly his due? Whatever her anger and her resentment against him had been, the idea of taking revenge on him by trapping him into a miserable marriage had never even seemed to cross her mind. She had just shown him exactly how damaging to himself and to others his conduct was. There was no knowing how things would have gone if Bingley had married her eldest sister, but what he had missed at Netherfield was now obvious to him – that Mrs. Johnson was a woman who concealed deep feelings under a thick layer of cheerfulness. The mistrust with which he went through life had blinded him to the richness of human nature, and had ultimately caused some of his most egregious mistakes, and it had taken Miss Bennet's refusal of him to make him understand that.

And had she not shown signs of forgiving him for what was truly unpardonable behaviour? Had she not received him at Longbourn, and at Gracechurch Street? More importantly, had she not trusted him with a family secret that was probably more mortifying to her than her mother's impropriety had ever been? No, his weakness was in good hands, and he had known that for a long time, ever since he had written her that letter where he had told her about Georgiana's elopement.

He thought back to his appointment with Miss Younge. In the spur of the moment, he had told her to bring the child to his home. This meant that he would be the one bringing back John to Gracechurch Street, thereby letting the entire family know what had happened. How he would cope with their gratitude, he did not know. What he did know, however, was that it would certainly delay his proposal to Miss Bennet. He wanted her to understand that he did not expect to receive her hand in marriage in exchange for his bringing back her nephew. His best hope was that she would be out when he brought back John. Maybe he could induce Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner to keep quiet about his part in the affair. Otherwise, there would be no way to conduct that particular business with any delicacy.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this, Jane Austen does.

**Author's note:** I would like to thank the beautiful Patagonian for beta-reading this story and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement.

At exactly six o'clock, Miss Younge, holding John by the hand, was introduced in his study by his disapproving butler. For a moment she looked around the room, impressed with her surroundings, but clearly determined not to be intimidated. There was an air of good sense about her that Darcy liked, and he was happy to be dealing with her rather than with her foolish mother.

Darcy bade them sit down and offered some refreshments, which were gratefully accepted. It was not, strictly speaking, necessary (in fact, Darcy was certain most of his acquaintances would be shocked to hear who he was showing so much civility to), but he was curious about the story behind this abduction. Besides, he felt a little sorry for scaring her earlier and for causing a disagreement between her and her mother. He had a notion that his twenty pounds might come in handy.

As he was counting the bills, he saw she was biting her lip nervously.

"Is Mrs. Gardiner very angry?" she finally asked.

"I doubt very much that she is happy with you, Miss Younge."

"It is my mother that made me do it, sir, I swear!" she answered energetically. "She made me give up a very good position to go to Mrs. Gardiner and take the boy away as soon as I could. Now I'll never get anything good ever again. And all that for stupid Wickham!"

"I take it that it was Mr. Wickham's idea?"

"Yes," she answered contemptuously. "He's always full of ideas on how he's going to get rich and make us live in luxury. First, he was going to be a lawyer, but he never even finished his studies. Then, it was all the heiresses he was going to marry, but the best he ever brought back was some girl who had nothing at all, who he didn't even marry, and in the end he left her behind for us to take care of. Once, he joined the militia and told us he was going to become a general, but he left after he'd lost too much money at cards. Then he was going to be a professional gambler, but that didn't work out either, and now he's decided he wants to become a thief – a gentleman-thief, as he calls himself – and that's why he wanted John to help him because he's small. But we haven't seen Wickham in a week, and there are quite a few moneylenders looking for him, so I doubt he'll be much around for a while. We'd have been saddled with him, too," she added with a glance at the boy. "And you were right, this morning, it's no life for a child, being a pickpocket. He's much better off with the Gardiners."

She fell silent and glared at Darcy's inkpot. He wasn't sure what to say about her outburst. He could imagine too well how frustrating it must be to see a parent under Wickham's spell, year after year. But he couldn't tell her so.

"I commend you for your good sense and your kindness, Miss Younge," he finally settled on.

She blushed and thanked him.

"What are your prospects now?" he continued. "I cannot suppose that your mother will thank you for bringing John to me."

"Well, if I find a new position, it will be all right," she answered. "Mama can't very well do without me, what with Wickham always borrowing money from her. But if Mrs. Gardiner is really angry, then it's going to be very hard."

Darcy thought it over. In her last letter, Georgiana had written that she had trouble finding a new maid. Could he trust Miss Younge enough to recommend her to his sister? Oh, who was he trying to fool! Of course he would recommend her to Georgiana. When had he ever been able to resist the idea of helping out sensible, brave and independent young women? He offered to write to Georgiana immediately, and Miss Younge seemed genuinely happy at the prospect of discovering Kent – she had never been out of London. She promised Darcy that Mrs. Bingley would never have any reason to complain, and thanked him again and again.

As soon as he'd finished his letter to Georgiana, Darcy ordered his carriage, and took John back to Gracechurch Street. They rode in silence. Darcy was worried about Miss Bennet, and John was too busy enjoying the ride.

There was light coming from the drawing room, and Darcy thought it best to tell the footman he wanted a private audience with Mr. Gardiner, without leaving his name. John had different plans, however. Without heeding Darcy, he jumped out of the coach and ran up the stairs. Darcy was hardly in the hall before the boy threw the door of the drawing-room open, and jumped into Miss Bennet's arms. They both started crying.

But Darcy had no time to feel discomfited. His hand was in hers. She was looking at him with adoration and gratitude through her tears. In one moment, all his most painfully sweet fantasies were upon him, more powerful and intoxicating than ever before.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, how can we ever thank you!"

It was too much, and before he could think, the words were out.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes, of course! Of course, I will marry you!"

At that moment, Mrs. Gardiner came in, wondering what the commotion was. One look was enough to convince her of what was going on. She'd long had her suspicions, and she was glad to see it come to a happy conclusion. She took John from Elizabeth's arms and spent as much time as possible fussing over him, sending messages to the rest of the family that John was safely back home, and kept everybody away from the drawing room.

Darcy and Elizabeth had of course much to discuss that evening. He soon learnt that she had revised her opinion of him a long time ago – even before her sister's elopement. After reading his letter, she had at least acquitted him from villainy. He found that, when she had visited Pemberley, Reynolds had praised him so much that she had allowed him to be not so bad a man, and but for his unfortunate manners, she had almost regretted her refusal. When she had heard that he had befriended the Johnsons and the Gardiners, she had been certain he would avoid her at all costs.

"I was ever so surprised when you appeared at Longbourn," she told him. "I did not know what to make of it. I thought – surely you must have forgotten me, after all these years, but you were so civil, so attentive, not only to my father, but also to me, that it took me quite a while to recover from it."

He learnt that she had wanted to tell him about her youngest sister for a long time, and that scruples on that account had been the only thing that had kept her from fully encouraging his attentions. That she had been unable to discourage him was due to the fact that his visits had provided much needed solace from her grief.

He assured her that he had never forgotten her, that the prospect of hearing from her again had been his main reason for befriending the Johnsons, his only reason, really, and that he had only gone to Longbourn to see her. He told her how what she had told him, almost eight years ago, had made him reconsider his conduct, his manners, his approach to others.

They spent a long time talking, and Mrs. Gardiner had to remind them that the family was going to bed.


	13. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this, Jane Austen does.  
**Author's note:** I would like to thank the beautiful Patagonian for beta-reading this story and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement.  
This is the last part of the story. Sorry it took so long. I really have no other excuse than the fact that settling down in a new place is not the easiest thing in the world. Thanks for everybody who has been reading this and/or commented. This is the longest fic I've ever written. I know that a lot of people have done much better, but I'm still kind of proud of myself.

Darcy had no trouble, the next morning, in getting the Gardiners and Mr. Johnson's approval. They were all very happy about it, and Mr. Montgomery was never mentioned again. The wedding was celebrated as soon as propriety permitted, and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy left for Pemberley to be happy.

Lady Alicia never gave Elizabeth precedence, no matter what General Fitzwilliam said. But the family accepted Elizabeth easily enough – it was, after all, Darcy's second marriage, and his relatives were mostly relieved that he had not married his maid.

Mr. Collins was very good at managing his estate, mainly because most of it was done by his wife. Her correspondence with Elizabeth was, in the first year of her being mistress of Longbourn, very frequent. Sometimes, Darcy's judgement was applied to, but he preferred to leave most of it between the two friends. Mr. Collins had a very important role, however, in being courteous to all his neighbours, something he was schooled in very thoroughly by his father-in-law. He could not, however, provide the same kind of advice to the young ladies in Meryton that his cousin had done, and for a while the elegance of Hertfordshire suffered for it. Happily, Netherfield Park was soon occupied by new owners whose elegant daughter properly succeeded to the former mistress of Longbourn.

Georgiana never had any reason to complain about Sally. On the contrary, she was so happy with her that Sally quickly rose to upperclass maid, and the housekeeper was soon thinking about training her as her successor. Sally sent about half her money to her mother, who sent it straight to Wickham. It took Mrs. Younge a long time before she realised that he was not worth her devotion. It took Wickham even longer to realise that sending Darcy begging letters was a waste of his time.

How had Wickham learnt about his son? Straight from Lydia. The poor girl had never gotten over him, and had sent letter after letter to Edwards Street. In the hope of interesting him in her again, she had told him that John would go to London with Elizabeth. The idea of teaching his son to be a thief had been too alluring to his vanity, and that was how the plan to abduct John had started.

Mr. Johnson had to find someone else to suspect of showing his wife too much interest. He did not need to look long: Darcy's engagement soon brought the Bingleys to town, and Mr. Bingley renewed his acquaintance with Jane. Neither of them would of course do anything improper, but Mr. Bingley could not imagine any gallantry to be enough for Mrs. Johnson, and she would always blush becomingly at his attentions. Mrs. Bingley had a very different disposition from Mr. Johnson, and Mrs. Johnson's sweet disposition endeared her so much to her that they soon became fast friends.

It soon became apparent that John was not happy in London. He missed the farm on which he had spent the first six years of his life. It also became obvious to Mr. Gardiner that he was not cut out to work in his firm. A couple of childless tenants of Darcy's were more than happy to take him in as a help, where he did so well and endeared himself so much that they adopted him. He remained close to his uncle and aunt, who often came to visit him. It was much whispered about, but nobody ever dared say anything about it in front of Darcy. He wouldn't have minded too much, though. He was too happy to care much about his reputation.


End file.
